Memory of Trust
by Trust No One
Summary: Follow up to 'Mind Games' - Frodo wakes up in Ithilien, after the completion of the Quest, and looks back on some tense moments pondering on Sam's unwavering loyalty and makes some decisions of his own...Please R&R!


Disclaimer: Don't own Tolkien's characters or locations,  and I never will, just having fun sobs

Title: Memory of Trust (follow up to 'Mind Games')

Author: Trust No One

Rating: PG-13 

Genre: Angst

Feedback: Please!!!

Summary: Frodo wakes up in Ithilien, after the completion of the Quest, and looks back on some tense moments, pondering on Sam's unwavering loyalty, and makes a decision of his own…(follow-up to 'Mind Games') * No Slash *

A/N: There are some great Frodo-angst writers whose works have greatly inspired me: Aratlithiel, aelfgifu, Mbradford, Ariel, Iorhael to name but a few. I am nowhere near that league, but because I have read some of their works, I was inspired to start putting my own ideas in writing, even if English is not my native language. So I hope that you enjoy this! Please R&R!

~~

It was early morning and the tent was infused with crisp, golden light that seemed to get stronger every minute. The smell of early spring mingled with that of fresh _athelas_, soothing and healing. The silence outside was unnatural for this time of the morning when soldiers, healers, horse masters and other military staff were generally bustling about the Ithilien camp, each going purposefully about their business. Today was a day of rest, ordered by the King Elessar as a way of honoring the efforts that everyone had made to bring the chaotic aftermath of the War to bay.

Only the lone figure sitting on the huge bed was not concerned with days of rest or even efforts that were honored. In fact, the mere thought of being honored for his own deeds caused a bitter, painful smile to form on his pale lips.  Huge blue eyes, that seemed to occupy half of his wasted-looking face, were riveted on another figure, lying still on the bed and looking just as pale as himself, yet breathing steadily and peacefully. 

Sam would be awake soon, he had been told. And hopefully healed….

Healed…

He shook his head vigorously and he almost laughed at the thought. 

Healed, whole, alive…Those were words that he would never again be able to associate with himself. 

Yes, he was healed in body, partially so, if he were to disregard the throbbing phantom pain where his middle finger had been, or Shelob's bite, or the Witch King's stab, or even the lingering effects of the unspeakable horrors that had been done to him in the Tower of which the whip lashes were but the mildest… He was in functioning order, more to the point.

Whole?…that was another matter altogether. The biggest pain of all seemed to lie in the emptiness inside his chest, where his heart had once been, his heart that had been ripped away from him and unjustly cast into the sweltering abyss of Mount Doom, along with the one item that had possessed it to the end. Above all else, he missed the weight of the Ring around his neck, the dreadful certainty that it was there, where it should be by right, his own, his…precious…STILL.

Alive?….Living yes, existing and drawing breath, yes. But alive? Who was he trying to trick?

The answer came as readily as it always did: he wasn't trying to trick anyone but himself. They had all known when he had first woken up after too many days of hovering on the brink of death. He had seen it in their eyes. You could fool a great many people in your day, Frodo Baggins, but not Gandalf or Aragorn. Whatever Aragorn had brought back with his skilful healing talents was but a shadow, a broken piece of valuable china that was lovingly pasted back together with the full knowledge that sooner, rather than later, the cracks would reappear and it would become unglued once more.

They had seen it in his face, his utter misery upon opening his eyes and realizing that he was still in Middle-Earth, alive, and not the well-earned rest of the afterlife. He had been too weak to hide it then. And they had known….

There was one singular blessing that had transpired through all this: he had regained consciousness before Sam so he had a little while to lay his plans, to figure out a way in which he would appear well and healthy to his trusted friend without lying to him with a straight face. He could not bear to add the burden of lies to the torment he had already laid on Sam's shoulders throughout their journey. Surely, Frodo could not be expected to be fully recovered from the ordeal they had both endured, that would only arise Sam's suspicions, but at least he felt grateful for the little time awarded to him to gather his wits and think out his next course of action.

He watched the glorious morning light playing on Sam's face and noted, with extreme relief, that his gardener's lips were no longer pale but had a faint rosy hue. Sam was coming back... Frodo smiled though he did not realize it. He wondered how many times Sam had hovered protectively above him during their journey, watching him sleep, holding his hand and soothing him with encouraging words, while his own mind had been wandering, subdued by the dark spell of the Ring's enticing voice.

A stir of movement behind him made Frodo start. His hearing was as sharp as ever, as sharp as before…Without having to turn, he knew who it was.

'Gandalf' he spoke softly yet trying to appear lively 'I'm glad you came. Samwise is looking so much better today. Aragorn tells me he should awaken any time now.'

The wizard nodded solemnly, a half-smile creasing his wrinkled features. 

 'I see his color is returning. It obviously takes more than a Ring of power to defeat this sturdy hobbit.'

Frodo shuddered involuntarily. He averted his gaze but the spasm was not lost to the wizard who sat on the bed beside Frodo and searched the hobbit's eyes.

'And you, Frodo?' he asked. 'How are you faring today?'

'Much better, thank you.' Frodo said carefully. He summoned a smile and hoped Gandalf would let it go at that.

'That is indeed heartening to hear.' Gandalf said curtly and Frodo had no illusion that the wizard had seen right through his lie. Still Gandalf pressed no further and Frodo was grateful for it.

They sat in silence for a while, Frodo holding Sam's warm, callused hand in his own uninjured palm. It seemed as if Sam's hot fingers steadily warmed Frodo's ice-cold grip. Even in sleep, the faithful friend sought unconsciously to comfort his beloved master.

'Wake up, Sam' Frodo barely whispered as he bent over the sleeping form and pushed a rebellious curl of sandy hair out of Sam' s closed eyes. In doing so, he brushed his maimed hand against the soft sheeting and let out an involuntary hiss of pain. He bit it back too late.

'Frodo,' Gandalf said turning the hobbit gently by the shoulders so they faced each other, 'it's all right. You're in pain and there is no need to hide it. What is the point of trying to put on a brave face when you are suffering inside?'

Frodo's gaze dropped, his dark curls spilling over his alabaster features.

 'It's just physical pain, Gandalf' he said dismissively. 'It will pass. I've only been awake a day and the wound is still quite fresh-'

He slid off Sam's bed and straightened the long shirt he was wearing, no doubt belonging to a man twice his size. Gandalf was once again shocked at the hint of Frodo's gaunt frame that seemed to be lost in the folds of the garment.

'I am tired now. Maybe I should rest a bit.'

Gandalf regarded Frodo thoughtfully but said nothing. As the hobbit slipped between the sheets of his own bed and clumsily drew the covers atop him with only one hand, Gandalf got up to help. But one gritty look from Frodo stopped the wizard in his tracks. Barely suppressing a smile, Gandalf moved towards the bedside table and poured a brownish liquid from a jug.

'Here, drink this, you stubborn hobbit.' He prompted Frodo who made a face but obediently gulped it down, his knuckles turning white as he swallowed the vile liquid. 

'Oh, stars, Gandalf, any more of your tonic and I shall die from bitterness.' It was only half a joke.

'It's necessary and you know it.' Gandalf said with mocked severity.

'Please wake me should Sam regain consciousness.'

'Do not worry, I will' Gandalf reassured. 'Now rest, my dear boy.'

Frodo closed his eyes while a faint smile played on his lips. 'My dear boy.' Bilbo used to call him that…. He welcomed sleep.

_Warmth engulfed his body. Warmth like he had not felt since before the Witch King's cursed blade had seared his flesh. It was so comfortable, so right, so long overdue, like the soft arms of a beloved sweetheart. He felt it seeping inside his body until his blood flowed with it, it swept across his face invading his mouth and nostrils spreading through every inch of his scalp in a rush of hot, impossibly relaxing surge. This must be death, he mused as his calm breath grew more and more shallow and he relished in the unexpected liberating feeling. His eyelids dropped heavily. He never wanted to have to open his eyes, ever. At last! _

_From a distance, a strange noise intruded upon his tranquility. At the same time his nostrils were assaulted by a sickening stench and Frodo recognized in horror the unmistakable smell of scorching, sizzling flesh. His own! His eyes flew open and he was instantly blinded by the intensity of the orange-red fire that swathed him. His whole body was wreathed in fire, flames licking at his arms, legs and face yet he felt nothing. Not the blistering agony as his skin blackened and pustules filled with liquid burst, not the choking fumes that should have suffocated him long before his body was consumed. He felt none of it. All he was aware of was the weight of the gold band resting in his palm, his entire existence transferred into its glowing perfect roundness. He was burning in the fires of Mount Doom and not for one moment did he curse his fate. He wanted nothing more than to pass out of existence together with his treasured Ring. His heart cried out as the Ring slowly began to melt in his palm and rivulets of gold bled though his fingers while deep into his fading mind, one last thought was formed: We are together, at last!.. And nothing else matters!_

Then he was awake and wished he could scream in agony at having to face another day in _this life. Instead he gritted his teeth and suppressed his cry. Sam couldn't hear him like this…_

Curled up in a tight ball, his shaking hand traveled the painfully long way up to his chest and rested on the spot where the Ring had lain. 

You know it's gone he told himself, why do you still hope that these dreams are real? You failed. You failed in your mission to destroy it, you failed in your pathetic effort to follow It into the Fire. Because Sam had an ounce of faith left and dragged you out of what should in all fairness have been your tomb. And you went along with it. 

_This is your punishment. You have been sentenced to live!_

He couldn't remember what relic of strength had made him cling to Sam's protective arm as they had limped together out of the Sammath Naur. But it did not matter. What mattered was that Sam's efforts had culminated in them being saved from certain death and Frodo had decided there, on the collapsing slopes of Mount Doom that Sam would never know about his inner ordeal. 

Sam would need care and attention, and he would need to be protected. Protected from knowing or worrying about the inner self-destructive being that still lurked inside Frodo. He did not yet know how this inner being would be tamed, but Frodo approached this task with his usual single-mindedness. Sam would need to be repaid his kindness and loyalty with Frodo's own kindness and loyalty. Frodo would see that they returned to the Shire and that no living hobbit would be more honored than his treasured gardener.

Repay loyalty with loyalty, for a change, Frodo thought bitterly, not like in the Tower of Cirith Ungol…

He somehow heard the voice booming over the grunts and snarls of the orcs abusing him.

_'Idiots! Get away from him!'_

_The cruelty ceased for a moment but he knew it was only the briefest of respites. There had been such short reprieves before, but only long enough for them to jolt him awake from blessed unconsciousness and forcefully snap him back to the nightmarish reality that was now his existence._

_'He is not to be touched, you scum! What's left of him now? Look at him! You better hope you haven't killed him'_

_The shackles restraining his arms and legs were instantly unfastened and Frodo slumped to the stone floor in a shapeless heap. He swam in and out of consciousness and he might have embraced the feeling had it not been for the despair and hopelessness caused by the absence of the Ring. It was lost, it was lost forever and Frodo could have never imagined the searing anguish at having been parted from it. It was almost as if the beastly torture he had suffered at the hands of the orcs had not taken place. His body was nothing more than a shell inhabited by a spirit that was fading slowly now that the one thing that had sustained it was gone. His conscious mind thrashed in an agonizing question: how could you have become so reliant on the power of the Ring?_

_And then he heard the song… And Sam coming to his rescue, yet again….  _

_But more than that and long before Sam had actually wrapped his broken form in his arms, Frodo heard something else, a sound infinitely more alluring and cherished: the call of the Ring. Every fiber of his being reverberated and the physical pain became all but tolerable. Bliss like he couldn't remember feeling before slowly dissolved into frantic worry: who was it that carried the Ring? Was it one of the orcs, or maybe its master had taken it back, and yet it was still calling out to HIM?_

_And then Sam was there and Frodo was sucked out of his trance, abandoning himself in the strong embrace while they both shed tears of joy and sorrow and Sam's eyes mirrored his wildest fear: his master was not going to pull through this one. Frodo's body was a collection of quivering bloodied welts and the traces of other recent tortures were all too obvious. _

_But the wretched state he was in no longer bothered Frodo. He felt, even before he opened his mouth to ask, even before Sam admitted it, that the Ring was there, a breath's width away. And then he saw it, and his eyes and mind became imbued with its shy, reddish glow while the song of it seeped into his tired brain and suddenly all pain and uncertainty was gone. He stretched his hand hungrily and in the corner of his eye, he became aware of Sam's fleeting moment of hesitation. His temper flared as a burning desire to grab Sam by the throat overwhelmed him. He fought the urge with all his might and instead hissed_

**'Give it to me at once. You can't have it!'**

_How could Sam do this to him? He had no right! He was nothing but a servant and he coveted what was rightfully his master's? One moment he had Sam weeping all over him, thanking the starts for having found him in one piece and the next his loyal gardener was no better than the orcs, his eyes bulging and his heart wavering as he clawed at the chain, struggling to give up the Ring. Surely, Samwise was in so much better shape than himself, Frodo reasoned that before long his gardener would seek to slay him. It wouldn't take much strength to pin Frodo's slight frame to the wall and run Sting's cold blade through his heart. Unless…._

_With strength beyond his own, Frodo leapt and the next moment he found himself holding Sam against the wall in a death-grip, his glassy blue-eyes almost purple in the scarlet light and his lips pulled back in a hateful sneer. _

_'Don't get any ideas, Samwise! I know what's on your mind!'_

_He expected Sam to fight back, to struggle fiercely. Only the resistance that Frodo anticipated never came. Sam stood there, pinned to the wall, his hand never even straying to the hilt of his sword, his gentle eyes brimming with tears and never once leaving Frodo's glazed over orbs. Sam dropped the chain and the Ring. The loud clang echoed in the chamber with the might of a thousand thunders. Frodo released Sam instantly. He collapsed to the floor, sobbing violently._

_'Oh, Sam, dearest friend, I beg you, forgive me' he pleaded over and over._

_Sam said nothing but grasped Frodo's bare shoulders and lifted him up. The look on his face, the pain and hurt were still there and Frodo's heart wrenched with sorrow. Only Sam was not interested in feeling sorry for himself._

_'I know, Mr Frodo' he said softly. 'You don't have to tell me. I understand it now. I carried this cursed thing if only for a short while and it spoke to me as well.' His throat constricted as he went on 'I cannot even begin to imagine what it is doing to you…'_

_Frodo opened his mouth to speak but clamped it shut it almost immediately. He gripped Sam's lower arms that still rested on his shoulders and gave him a determined look._

_'I want you to promise me something, Samwise Gamgee.' He never gave the other hobbit time to react 'I want you to promise me that you will be there for me in the end…should I find myself unable to fulfill my mission.'_

_'Mr Frodo…' Sam began to protest._

_'No, Samwise.' Frodo interrupted firmly.' Look at me! Do you honestly believe that I am in any kind of position to command my senses like I used to? I am becoming so spellbound by the Ring that I am willing to wager that when the time comes I will find it just about impossible to give it up!  My mind is clear now though I do not know for how much longer, so listen to me!'_

_Sam was not aware of the tears rolling down his cheeks nor that he was gripping Frodo's shoulders a bit too tight and the broken skin was beginning to bleed again._

'You have to think about why we are here, Sam. We were sent to destroy the Ring. And you cannot put my well being above that! No matter what! Can I trust you to do that, should I fail? Can I trust you to close your eyes and ignore that I might be holding the Ring at the Cracks of Doom just because I do not want to let it go? Can I trust you to do what has to be done, even if it means casting us both into the fire?' Frodo's voice sounded shrill and desperate but resolute like never before in the silence of the tower chamber.

Sam's head fell into his chest and though he was unable to utter any word, he nodded his head, racked by sobs he no longer sought to stifle. He pulled Frodo in a strong embrace and they stood there for a long time, one feeling somewhat more relieved, the other burdened beyond words until the latter found his voice and whispered into Frodo's tangled curls.

'It will not come to that, Mr Frodo. If I have anything to do with it, it will no come to that!'

Now that Frodo thought about it, the burden he had cast on Sam's shoulders must have weighed infinitely more than the Ring. Still, Sam had agreed, for Frodo's sake. It was the worst anyone had ever done to Sam in his life. Attacking him, then asking him to take his master's life in his own hands and throw it away just because Frodo himself might be too weak to do it was beyond sin. Frodo asked himself if Samwise would remember. In a way, Frodo knew that he deserved to endure Sam's accusatory glance, as all the anguish Frodo had inflicted upon him would come flooding back. But Frodo knew Sam only too well. He would never believe that it was his gentle, scholarly master who had tormented him so. They both knew it was the Ring. Only Frodo knew in his heart that deep down he would never accept that as an excuse, no matter what Sam might say to him. He felt that the Ring had changed him to the core and he feared more than anything that Sam would catch a glimpse of the forsaken creature gnawing away at his remaining days under this sun, using the most painful weapon of all: guilt.

He would fight his suffering, his torment for Samwise's sake. The best reason to do all that was lying on the bed, breathing gently in restful slumber. He would pick up the pieces of himself and draw strength from the knowledge that Samwise was worth every minute of it. If only his health would not fail him….

Once his mind was made up, Frodo dozed peacefully, dreamlessly but after what seemed only a short while, he was awakened by the sound of the sweetest voice and he had to struggle to keep his eyes closed and not jump for joy.

**"Bless me! How long have I been asleep?"**


End file.
